


dusk / dawn

by quiettoxic



Series: tumblr requests [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Helpful Denmark, M/M, Pining, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiettoxic/pseuds/quiettoxic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Norway wasn't supposed to fall in love with his brother's best friend, but Hong Kong fascinates him, and he's always been drawn to interesting people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dusk / dawn

Hong Kong is, in many ways, a mystery to Norway.

He contradicts himself. He is cool with a fiery spirit, quiet yet demands attention, and despite his small height gives off the impression of being as tall as Norway is. Hong Kong is dusk and dawn in one person, and Norway can’t help but feel drawn to him.

 It confuses him at first that Hong Kong is friends with Iceland. Norway still isn’t sure how exactly they met, how Hong Kong managed to get past his brother’s defenses and is able to poke and prod without Iceland blowing up at him. He considers it and thinks, maybe Hong Kong is a bit like Denmark in a way, would be more like him if it weren’t for his upbringing. They both ultimately seem to have other people’s best interests at heart.

He reconsiders when he gets to know Hong Kong better, starts talking to him _not_ through Iceland; Norway reckons he is more like Finland, maybe. They both value their words and their privacy and keep to themselves whenever possible, yet are seen as friendly in a way that Norway himself has never quite achieved.

It’s helpful to compare Hong Kong to people he knows better than he knows the nation in question, but Norway realizes it’s all futile. Hong Kong is his own person, and much of him remains shrouded in mystery. How much of that is deliberate, Norway can’t say.

It’s Denmark’s idea to invite Hong Kong over for a ‘Nordic Weekend’ they have planned, which Norway knows will end in disaster not only because Romania threw ominous predictions at him last week. Denmark claims it is time to get to know Iceland’s _new best friend_ a little better, and it is impossible to miss the suggestive eyebrow wiggle, so Norway just blatantly ignores it.

Still, they invite Hong Kong, and someone drags Estonia in – Norway isn’t sure if that was Denmark too, or Finland again – and it’s… Surprisingly pleasant, when it’s not just the five of them. Norway watches Denmark make sweeping hand gestures that nearly knock Sweden _and_ Estonia’s glasses off, and Finland and Iceland are sharing headphones, listening to music that’s making Iceland cringe every three seconds. Norway makes a mental note to ask Finland what it is later.

“This is much more sedate than the usual Chinese meeting,” Hong Kong says, out of the blue. Norway’s heart skips a beat as he jumps in shock. Hong Kong gives him an inscrutable look, then leans against the table next to him.

“Just wait for it,” Norway mumbles. Hong Kong looks up at him with one eye, eyebrow raised, and quirks a small smile.

“Okay,” he says. The silence that falls is not uncomfortable. They watch, and sure enough, Denmark’s gesturing slaps Sweden’s glasses off his face, and he trips over Finland’s feet when he goes to pick them up, falling into Iceland, who shrieks and pushes him away. Estonia, who was coming over to find Sweden’s glasses as well, gets a mouth full of Denmark’s hair, both of them falling over on top of Sweden’s glasses. Sweden can’t see a thing, so he stumbles, and must hit Denmark, who starts cursing underneath Estonia, and Estonia is flailing and soon it’s all chaos.

Norway sneaks a glance at Hong Kong, who’s staring at the mess, and smiles.

“Still more sedate than the average Chinese meeting,” Hong Kong says slowly, “but then again… There’s a lot more people there.”

He looks up at Norway again, through strands of dark hair, eyes narrowed.

“Shouldn’t you be jumping into the fray?”

“Me?” Norway huffs. “Unless Ice is gettin’ hurt, I’m fine here.”

Hong Kong laughs, and Norway thinks it’s the first time he’s actually heard him do that. It’s pleasant, knowing that he was the one who caused it. He feels his own lips twitch into a grin.

“I don’t think he’d appreciate it very much if you jumped in just to help him,” Hong Kong says, still with laughter evident in his voice.

“I know,” Norway replies. “That’s why I do it.” It’s his duty as an older brother to embarrass Iceland, after all.

Hong Kong starts laughing again.

In retrospect, Norway thinks that’s where it started. Him being able to make someone laugh. That doesn’t happen often. Norway doesn’t think of himself as particularly serious, but he knows his jokes tend to be on the dark side, and it doesn’t help that he usually doesn’t laugh at them himself, so people can have trouble discerning when he _is_ joking. But now that he got Hong Kong to laugh, while he doesn’t seem to do so often, Norway wants _more_.

Whenever Hong Kong shows up to talk to Iceland at meetings or parties or the like, Norway tries to catch his attention, not to draw him away from Iceland – he’s not _that_ rude – just to let him know he’s around. Most of the time, Hong Kong saunters over to him when he’s showed Iceland enough things on his phone, and they exchange pleasantries, talk about the occasion, the other nations around. Very quickly, it devolves into the two of them making fun of people, because Norway has never met anyone who is as good as pointing out how embarrassing everyone in the room is with a completely straight face as Hong Kong.

It takes a while to figure out what exactly makes him laugh, but that makes it all the more rewarding when he does burst out when Norway drily remarks that England’s eyebrows are uneven, which is completely off-topic but too glaring to ignore. It wasn’t even intended to be funny, as such. Norway thinks, maybe that’s it. Off-handed comments.

And that is it.

They get into strange debates over text messages, and Norway feels a bit old when Hong Kong has to teach him about _memes_ , but he can’t help but smile when the man laughs at him the next time they meet.

After a few months, Iceland starts complaining that Norway has stolen his friend, and they get into a mild argument over the fact that Hong Kong is his own person and he’s allowed to hang out with whomever he likes. Still, Norway reckons his brother has a point, in a way, so he tries to ease up a little. Hong Kong was his friend first.

It’s far more difficult than he thought it would be, because somehow, Hong Kong has carved out a place in Norway’s life, and it’s strange when he’s not there. He’s the sort of person who will worm himself into your routine in such a way that you don’t even notice he’s there – until he’s not. Norway thinks back on his comparisons, and has to amend; in that way, Hong Kong is most like Sweden.

He watches Hong Kong, and watches him with Iceland, and when he laughs at something Iceland says, Norway bites his lip and takes a deep breath, because that was definitely jealousy that just spiked in his chest. He closes his eyes, tuning out Denmark, who’s chattering at him about beer. Norway is a jealous person, he knows this. He’s not proud of it, but it is what it is. He even envies Denmark’s ability to be so utterly unselfish sometimes. Nevertheless, he has no right to be jealous of Iceland for making Hong Kong laugh. Absolutely no right. Hong Kong can have as many friends as he wants, and he can laugh with all of them, because Hong Kong is a friendly person who deserves all the friends he can get.

And yet.

“Nor, y’alright?” Denmark asks. Norway opens his eyes, looking at him.

“Yeah,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

Denmark grins, clasping his shoulder. “Good.”

Good.

Norway glances at Iceland and Hong Kong, and Hong Kong catches his eye, quirking his eyebrows. Norway nods at him, and he smiles a little before refocusing on Iceland. Norway closes his eyes again, because his heart leaped at the smile, and he knows he wants even more than before, wants to map all Hong Kong’s facial expressions, every strange eyebrow jump, the different ways he moves his hands, how he talks.

Not good.

He tries to ease up more, to return to the way it was before they even invited Hong Kong to their Nordic Weekend, when he was just Iceland’s new friend, but it’s been over a year since then, and Hong Kong starts asking questions when Norway doesn’t respond to his messages. Because they’re friends now too, and that’s what friends do.

He wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Hong Kong.

Surprisingly, Denmark is the first one who notices Norway’s inner struggle. He plies him with pastries and beer, and actually gets him to spill it all, because it’s so _frustrating_. Norway doesn’t want Iceland to feel like he’s losing a friend to him, and he doesn’t want to be seen as the creepy older brother, but he _likes_ Hong Kong and wants to—

He stops himself there, because Denmark is leaning over a little too eagerly. He bops him on the head.

“Rude, Nor.”

“Your head’s askin’ for it.”

“Sure.” Denmark shakes the head in question, amused. “Ya know what I think?”

“Not much?”

“I think,” he continues, ignoring Norway’s reflexive comeback, “you’re thinkin’ too much about it, man. Ya can both be friends with ‘im. Hell, he can be friends with both of ya, _and_ me _and_ , ya know, Belgium and Poland and Russia and India and America’s damn alien, and that doesn’t mean he’s friends with you any less.”

“I _know_ ,” Norway says. “That’s not the _point_ , Den.”

“And ya can be in love with ‘im, and he can even be in love wit’ ya, and it wouldn’t make ‘im friends wit’ Ice any less. It’s all down to what he wants, Nor, ya gotta respect that.”

At this, Norway can do little more than stare at Denmark, because when did _he_ become so sensible?

He knew all this already, of course, but it’s easier when someone else spells it out.

Iceland is the next one who notices, but he’s not nearly as subtle about it as Denmark – and when has that sentence _ever_ been true before? He just sends a message one day that says, ‘I know you’re in love with HK’, and then one a few seconds after that, ‘I’m not, in case you were wondering’. Norway nearly drops his phone when he reads them, and he has absolutely no idea how to reply. It’s never even occurred to him Iceland could be in love with Hong Kong. He knows his brother well enough to know when he has a crush, or at least he thinks so, and nothing has ever pointed towards that.

But is he _that_ obvious, or do Iceland and Denmark just know him so well?

Another party comes, and Hong Kong bypasses Iceland, who’s talking to Denmark animatedly, which Norway thinks might be part of some sort of plan to get him to talk to Hong Kong.

If it is, it works, because Hong Kong is walking over to him, giving a small wave when their eyes meet.

“Hey,” Hong Kong says when he’s within hearing range. “Long time no see.”

“I guess,” Norway replies. He’s hyper-aware of his own body for some reason, suddenly can’t figure out where to put his hands. He folds his arms, then unfolds them, tucks some hair back behind his barrette.

“So how’s life been?” Hong Kong asks, looking faintly amused by his fidgeting.

“Fine. Yeah.”

Hong Kong raises his eyebrows so far that they disappear underneath his bangs. Norway takes a deep breath. This is ridiculous. He’s perfectly capable of holding a normal conversation with Hong Kong.

“My boss slipped on a fish yesterday,” he says, and is relieved when Hong Kong starts laughing loudly, unsuccessfully trying to muffle the sound into his hand. Norway looks down at him, and smiles, the tension draining away. Denmark was right. They can be friends. They can be more, if Hong Kong wants to.

It’s all up to him.

They fall back into their snarky routine easily, which Norway is grateful for. He is even moved to invite Hong Kong to his house one day, to show him around Oslo on a sunny afternoon and make dinner together. It’s different, but comfortable. In Norway’s apartment, Hong Kong has to climb on the kitchen counter to grab things from the uppermost cupboards. Norway chuckles about that, and when Hong Kong turns to glare, his legs slip, and Norway is dashing forward to catch him before he hits his head on the cupboards or falls to the floor.

The momentum is strong, and they both end up sprawled on the kitchen floor, flour slowly falling down like snow. Hong Kong is laughing into Norway’s chest, his body shaking. Norway is nearly afraid to move.

“Are y’alright?” he just asks softly.

“What does it look like?”

Norway looks down at Hong Kong and his huge grin as the nation slowly turns and rests his chin on Norway’s chest, which is quite painful.

“It looks like you’re fine.”

“Twelve points to Norway.” Hong Kong lifts his chin, then the rest of his body, propping himself up over Norway on his hands and knees. He grins down, dark hair framing his face like a weird halo, one that Norway wants to bury his hands in more than anything. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then he frowns, tilting his head. Norway swallows, and it sounds extremely loud in the sudden silence. He’s about to make some stupid comment, but Hong Kong forestalls him.

“Thanks for the catch,” he says, pushing himself up to his knees, then staying like that for a few seconds. Norway has to bite the inside of his cheek and look away. But then Hong Kong has fully stood up, and is offering Norway his hand, which he can only take, and then they continue making dinner as if nothing has happened.

Later that evening, when Norway is dropping Hong Kong off at his hotel – unfortunately, there is not enough space in his apartment to accommodate the both of them – Hong Kong turns around before he slides the keycard into its slot, leaning against the door of his room with his arms crossed.

“Norway?” he asks. When Norway nods, he says, “Was this, like, a date?”

Norway’s voice gets stuck in his throat when he tries to answer, and all that comes out is a wheezing sound that has Hong Kong raising his eyebrows in amusement.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“I… If we both didn’t know, then can it’ve been?”

Hong Kong laughs. “If we want it to be, I guess, yeah? Why not?”

“Do ya want it to be?”

He takes a deep breath, glancing at his feet, then meeting Norway’s gaze firmly, saying, “Yes.”

A stretch of silence. Norway has no idea what to say, and Hong Kong is tucking his hair behind his ear then pulling it free in a familiar nervous gesture. In one of the rooms, something falls to the floor, and a man’s voice shouts something angry.

“Come back home with me,” Norway says. He hesitantly takes a step closer to Hong Kong. “I think we should have a second date. One that we know is a date.”

Hong Kong smiles widely, breath escaping in a huff as he nods.

“But, there’s, like, one thing still missing from the first,” he says, and before Norway can ask what he means, he finds himself being pulled down by the back of his neck, and he learns that Hong Kong’s lips are every bit as soft as they look, and he smells like spices, and Norway’s hands fit perfectly around his warm jaw. Hong Kong makes soft noises into his mouth, clinging to Norway’s neck. It’s a soft kiss, one that truly wouldn’t be out of place at the end of a first date.

“So,” Hong Kong breathes, barely a centimeter away from Norway’s mouth, “to yours?”

Norway mumbles a confirmation, so they go. A second date, Hong Kong says, one that just consists of them watching a movie on Norway’s couch, chatting about certain scenes and other inane things until it’s far past midnight, and Hong Kong’s head lolls onto Norway’s shoulder. He’s chuckling lazily, Norway doesn’t remember about what, but it warms his chest. He lets his own head fall to the backrest of the couch. Hong Kong’s breath is warm on his neck, his fingers rest on the patch of skin above his collar as he curls his entire body into Norway.

They could fall asleep like this, Norway thinks, but that would be very uncomfortable. He reluctantly extracts himself, and Hong Kong makes a sleepy noise of irritation, hooking his fingers into his shirt. Norway smiles.

Eventually, the two of them do end up in Norway’s bed, and they fall asleep immediately.

Norway learns that Hong Kong isn’t cranky in the morning, but he does look adorable standing in the kitchen, trying to get the coffee machine to work. His hair is sticking up in odd tufts. Norway almost forgets his own crankiness.

“Good morning,” Hong Kong says, and then, sheepishly, “I wanted to make you coffee, but I can’t figure this thing out.”

Norway grumbles something even he doesn’t understand, but Hong Kong smiles and steps aside, allowing him to make his own coffee.

Breakfast is a quiet affair, but there are glances across the table that say more than Norway could ever put into words anyway.

Hong Kong dubs the trip to the airport their third date and kisses Norway in his car, long and slow, until Norway leans against the horn accidentally and they both startle so bad that their foreheads knock together. Hong Kong laughs, which makes Norway laugh as well.

When he’s gone, Norway is unable to get the smile to leave his face for the entire day.

Again, Denmark is the first one who notices something has changed. He congratulates Norway loud enough that he’s sure his boss, in the next room over, will start asking questions later.

“I suppose this means we’ll be seeing more of the guy, then,” he says, and Norway shrugs. _He_ will. Whether the rest of the Nordics will is up to Hong Kong.

Romania draws lucky cards for Norway and raises one eyebrow knowingly while England is cursing at a spell book in the background. Norway glances over at the island nation, eyebrows drawn together. He has no idea how England, who feels like Hong Kong is some sort of child to him, will react to this.

“I have an idea,” Romania chuckles, and it’s a good thing Norway has gotten used to this by now, otherwise he’d be thoroughly creeped out. He looks down again and sees that Romania has drawn the Death card. He almost laughs.

A fourth date, on a rainy day in the US, mostly spent walking close together under an umbrella and making fun of people’s raincoats. Iceland is complaining to the receptionist of the hotel when they come back, and Hong Kong waves at him before winding his hands into Norway’s coat and dragging him down for a kiss, that Norway gladly returns.

Iceland is shaking his head when Norway next glances at him, but he looks faintly amused.

Norway learns that Hong Kong is surprisingly – pleasantly – controlling when he wants to be, and able to keep a straight face even through the dirtiest suggestions he whispers into Norway’s skin. He lets Hong Kong map his body in return, the scars and blemishes and the faded tattoos from years ago.

And Hong Kong will go out with Iceland, or Taiwan or New Zealand or Vietnam or whatever, and Norway won’t mind, because he’s heard the things he whispers between the filthy words, and he deserves all the happiness he can get. And Norway visits England, or Denmark or Estonia or Belarus or whatever, and likewise, he knows Hong Kong trusts him, and—

“You know, Norway,” Hong Kong says, as this time Denmark accidentally swats Iceland’s puffin off his shoulder, and everything quickly devolves into chaos around them, “I think I love you.”

It takes a few seconds to register. Norway ducks as the puffin flies over his head and puts its claws in Denmark’s hair.

“I…” he says.

Hong Kong laughs and laces their fingers together.

“I know.”


End file.
